• eSwatini issue,  Poetry

    Joan Little

                Joan Little     The wind in Washington County carries.No one keeps to themselves. Rumorssoil. A caterpillar looks like a worm, and a worm, like a snake; fact is everything that crawls ain’t looking to be a butterfly. But, whytake a garden rake to a bird? It’s no secret, cops welcome a reason to kill anything. Ask the people they cage. Only crows bred in captivity collectthings. Corvids, they say – nature’scompulsive hoarders. Whatis a jeweled ring in the beakof a thief? A confession. Whatthey come to call a hoard of crows? A murder. We are not the only ones to speak over our dead. How she carried on…